The Sandwich
by Rattsu
Summary: A short drabble written for a contest, very NSFW Anders/Hawke/Fenris smut.


[Authors note: **This is all VERY NSFW**. Just stop reading now if you disapprove of slash, threesomes or things of a generally immoral nature. This story has nothing at all to do with my other DA writings, and is a completely stand alone piece. There might be a part two if I ever feel like it.

This was written for a contest, which was based on a particular image. As you might imagine, it was of a rather graphic nature. .com/post/5602588598/da-ii-related-contest]

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><p>Some sentences were just so inherently dangerous that, in Anders opinion, they should come complete with warning colorations, just like bees. Things like 'What could possibly go wrong?' should be a striped and angry wasp, and 'I have a bad feeling about this.' should be a bright big red bug you threw up if you dared to eat. Not that he had tried that. Really. At least not more than once. Though the hallucinations were sort of worth it. But, sometimes the most dangerous ones were the most innocent looking. And Maker, he should have seen this one coming a mile off.<p>

…

_"Want a sandwich?" Hawke had asked when they still lay wrapped together in the sweaty afterglow of a really bad idea._

_And Anders, like a fool, had mumbled "Sure," without taking into consideration what he really was agreeing to. Or with whom. He was just too happy being where he was, Hawke was a hard man to pursue, but an even harder one to pin down. Always on the move somewhere. Or to someone. Not always him._

_"Excellent," the man had said with the most pleased of smiles, scratching his bearded chin. _

_And then he had proceeded to explain exactly what he meant._

…

"You're making that face again," Hawke complained, reaching in to wrap his fingers in the mage's dirty blonde hair, pulling him in for a kiss. "I'd rather you'd make your sexy face," he continued once he had to break off for air.

"Do I even have a sexy face?" Anders asked, eyebrows shooting up as he shrugged out of his feathered coat. He should walk away from this, should slap the man and never come back. This was wrong. This was far too wrong. And yet his heart was racing.

"See, there it is," Hawke smiled, sliding a hand under Anders' shirt, tugging at it. His smile widened a bit as tanned arms wrapped around him from behind, the elf rising on his toes to growl in the tall man's ear.

"This is wrong," Fenris said curtly, voicing Anders misgivings out loud.

"On that we agree," the mage muttered, meeting his rival's gaze. Neither man backed down.

For years the pair had pursued the affections of Garrett Hawke, neither of them gaining the upper hand. The man was infuriatingly amoral, keeping no secret of his dual affairs and affections. He was not quite as bad as Isabela, Anders had decided after much agonizing, because at least he did not sleep with everything that caught his fancy. Just him. And Fenris. And possibly Isabela, but she didn't count. He had tried to reason with the man, but to no avail. He had tried to make Fenris back off, but he had about as much luck with that. Maybe, the mage admitted to himself, maybe Hawke simply felt more strongly about this than either of them did. What other possible explanation was it for the two of them being here? In the same room? Undressing?

"Don't brood, Fenris," Hawke said as he unbuttoned Anders shirt, smirking a little at the shivers that passed through the mage as his skin was exposed. Skin that he kept running calloused fingertips over, in the lightest of caresses.

"I do not brood," Fenris said curtly as he crossed his arms, clearly disapproving of Hawke's activities. "Just do not expect me to touch the mage." The last was said with a sneer of disgust.

"The mage in question is not too thrilled about this eitheeei…" Anders' broke off into a squeal as Hawke ran his fingers across the laced crotch of his pants, squeezing lightly. He could feel himself stiffen in response, because whatever faults that Garrett might have, he was good enough with his hands to make up for them.

"You feel thrilled enough," Hawke remarked, clever fingers massaging the growing bulge within. "And here I'd thought you'd be the hardest one to co.."

"I am here too," Fenris interrupted, annoyance dripping from his words.

"No," Hawke said lightly. "You're still brooding. No use fondling you until you lightens up and strips down."

Anders braced for the inevitable explosion, as the Lyrium tattoos burned into the elf's skin flared to life, but to his amazement Fenris angrily stripped off his shirt, tossing it to the floor as if it had been an enemy. Then he grabbed hold of Hawke's shoulders, jerking him around to kiss him deeply, and with surprising ferocity. It was… an odd thing to watch. Anders had to admit that he had been wondering how it would look with Hawke and the elf… wondering… ehr, well, thinking about it anyway. Certainly not fantasizing. No, no dirty thoughts involved.

"Soo…" he said to break the moment, noting that it was rather endearing that Fenris had to stand on his toes to kiss the taller man even though he clearly was the one in charge. Did that mean that Fenris tended to be the one to bend Hawke over? The thought of that made him flush lightly, as it brought other things to mind. "If… and Maker forgive me for continuing with this analogy, if this is a sandwich, which one is the meat?"

"I am, obviously," Hawke said once he had freed his mouth, licking his lips. He wrapped an arm around Fenris narrow shoulders, making the elf look very much like a cat somebody had dumped a bucket of water over. "After all, I am pretty much the only thing you both agree on."

"True that," Fenris said, his low gravelly voice rather mollified by the proximity of his lover. "You are foolish, selfish man." The last was said almost affectionately.

"That I agree with," Anders said with a nod, stepping close enough to kiss Hawke lightly. The beard brushed his chin as their lips touched, but his mind was only half on what he was doing. The other half was busying itself with the fact that he was close enough to almost touch Fenris. But he didn't. Still, when he closed his eyes he could feel the faint hum of Lyrium calling to him, the proximity was maddening in its own way. What would it feel like to kiss the elf? Run his fingers over the swirling patterns? Justice kept telling him that Lyrium had a song, and this close to Fenris, he could certainly believe it.

"Flatterers," Hawke said, wrapping one arm around each man, the smile on his lips wide enough to nearly crack his head in two.

"But one more thing," Anders mumbled, trying to ignore the brief brushes against Fenris skin when he wrapped himself around his lover. He had been reluctant to join in on this, but somehow the fact that Fenris seemed even more disturbed made him feel a lot more secure in his decision. "Who would be that bottom slice in this?"

"Is that not obvious?" Fenris growled, possessive hands wandering Hawke's skin.

"Oh I don't know that," the man in question said with a drawl. "You've both been known to enjoy that on more than one occasion." His hand slid down to squeeze the elf's ass affectionately.

"As have you," Fenris snapped, pulling away from the other two. "I am not about to…"

"Oh Maker," Anders groaned impatiently, then grabbed Fenris and kissed the elf before he could react. The lips were unwilling at first, pulled back in a snarled protest, but Anders persisted and was rewarded with a muffled moan and the lithe body relaxing against him. The Lyrium tasted like salt and steel where he brushed against the markings on his chin, and it made his tongue itch to lick them. He had done this mainly to shut the elf up, but also to prove a point. He wouldn't be the one to run away from this.

"Good going Anders…" Hawke said in approval, reaching in to join the fun.

Not that the fun was destined to last very long, Fenris aimed a hard sharp blow at Anders gut, making the mage stumble back, fighting for breath.

"Mage," the elf growled in warning. "Do not do that again."

"Had to… get it over with," Anders gasped. "The world is not going to end just because a mage touches you."

Fenris pulled back with a snarl, but didn't lash out further; he just kept fingering his lips. Hawke had stepped up behind him, wrapping an arm around the elf's narrow shoulders, just in case one of his lovers planned on eviscerating the other. But while the tattoos were aglow, he made no move to throw another punch.

"Now now," Hawke said, leaning down to nuzzle on Fenris ear, which brought a look of half annoyance, half pleasure to the elf's face. "Let's settle this fair and square. A simple competition, and the loser gets to be the bottom."

"What did you have in mind," Anders asked, straightening a bit as he rubbed his stomach. Honestly, he was glad Fenris hadn't decided to tear out his heart, but he at least Hawke seemed to have matters well in hand. Or, well, at least the hand that was snaking down the front of Fenris pants. Andraste's ass, he would actually get to see the elf naked, he hadn't really thought of that. The blush came hard, mostly because he wasn't really sure what the appropriate reaction would be.

"Oh it is quite simple really." Hawke had that dangerously amused look on his face that he sometimes got when about to something insanely stupid. Like charging an angry dragon, or give the Arishok the finger. "Both your cocks, in my mouth, the one who comes first loses."

"As if I would ever lose," Fenris said, voice husky and filled with gravel. Apparently Hawke's hand was quite convincing.

"You do have a big mouth Garrett," Anders said with trepidation. "But are you up to the task?"

"I do have two hands to help me along, don't you worry about that." Hawke freed himself from Fenris, walking over to the fireplace. The firelight licked his body, raising highlights on the hard angular planes. Scars crisscrossed his skin, Anders could name half of them by heart. Sword and axe, arrow and claw. He had healed them often enough, Garrett's body was almost as familiar as his own by now. Fenris however…

"How can we be sure you will play fair?" the elf asked, pacing back and forth, as if he was halfway through the door already. The Lyrium glowed dully, the sheen faintly visible even through his breeches. Anders hardly dared to look.

"Because I am interested in the outcome," Hawke said with a smirk, sinking down on his knees on the thick rug. "Wouldn't be very sporting to throw the results then, would it? I'm not Isabela."

"You do win either way," Anders remarked, trying to stop all the butterflies in his stomach from escaping at once. Even if Fenris hadn't been here, the sight of the man he loved just waiting to take him in his mouth would be enough to make him weak in the knees.

"I do," Hawke admitted. "Now come here…"

…

It was, Anders had to admit to himself, a wholly unearthly experience. A bit like losing his virginity all over again. That first time had been all about nervousness and blushes, trying to come to terms with being naked next to another body, finding out what made them fit together. The whole experience had been awkwardly funny, helped along by the fact that Karl at least had known what he was doing. And now he was back there again, full circle, not knowing what he was supposed to do with his hands. At least Fenris was in the same position. Hawke however, was far too good at his job.

He handled them both with the same teasing simplicity, wrapping his lips around each of them in turn. Neither of the men had stripped down completely, perhaps pants was somehow the last remaining bastion of dignity. Not that either of them had much left. It was hard to remain aloof when you had a tongue wrapping around the head of your cock, and a strong hand massaging the shaft. It was hard to be stoic when your smallest whimper was witnessed by your worst rival, their face mere inches away from your own. It was maddening not being able to reach out and touch.

Surprisingly enough, Fenris bridged that gap first, reaching out to grab Anders' shoulders, using the mage to steady himself. Anders gasped as the grip was hard enough to bruise, but the look in the elf's eyes was not one of anger but of desperation of a different sort. At times actions were a lot simpler than words and the second kiss was as tentative the first had been forceful. Almost soft. Gentle in its own way. It wasn't Fenris fault that he was an ass, Anders told himself. He only wanted what he himself did, Hawke, to have and to hold. Unfortunately that was not a man that would be held. Insufferable, impossible Garrett Hawke. He was the one to blame for this, wasn't he?

One of Anders' hands slid down, and he grabbed hold of Hawke's short, dark hair, pushing himself into his mouth. Taking control. Fenris eyes flew open as their cocks brushed together, Lyrium tingles mixing with the embarrassment of proximity. But there was something there that the elf could understand quite well. Revenge. Sometimes there were better targets than mages around. Like Hawke. He had asked for this after all, hadn't he? Begged and cajoled and bullied them into his bedroom at the same time. Only fair that he reaped what he had sown.

Time passed. Gasps. Whimpers. Choked groans. Once the mage and the elf had allied, Hawke had his work cut out for him. He no longer had full control, frequently choking as both tried to press in at once. No time to draw a breath, just struggling with coping with what was shoved down his throat. Not that he seemed to mind, not even when Fenris could no longer keep himself under control and spilled against his bearded cheek.

"Andraste's ashes," Anders gasped, pulling away before he joined the elf in losing control. "Where did you learn that Hawke?"

"Don't ask what you don't want to know the answer to," Hawke said, reaching up to pull Fenris down in his lap. The elf folded meekly, still out of breath, looking faintly shocked by the experience.

"I suppose that is true," the mage admitted, stripping off his pants completely. He needed something to focus on to just keep from taking himself in hand right then and there. Usually he could rely on Justice's disapproval, but this time the spirit had either been shocked into dormancy, or, and this was a far more frightening prospect, actually approved of the closeness of the Lyrium laced elf.

"This is all your fault," Fenris growled, but it was directed at Hawke, not Anders. "You knew what would happen."

"I theorized," Hawke whispered back, stripping the pants off the elf in his lap with careful, calming movements. "Anders, come here."

Anders found himself kneeling next to them, feeling oddly like an intruder. This was a side of Fenris he had not seen before, a wounded, jagged creature as much in need of healing as anybody who had stumbled into his clinic. He had often insulted the elf by comparing him to a wild beast, but he had never really stopped to consider that he might be a wounded one as well. Not that it made his views on mages any better, but… it was hard to hate a broken thing. Not that he had actually hated him in a long time, the insults came from habit and jealousy more than anything.

"The Lyrium?" the mage asked, voice hushed as he leaned in to kiss Hawke, quite aware that the seed he was tasting was Fenris' and not his own. The elf was trapped between them, and Anders felt a tentative hand run along his back. It didn't pull back.

"Apparently more sensitive to the touch of a mage, but anything can set them off. Touch. Anger. Desire." Hawke was serious for once, willing the mage to understand that this was not something to be made light of. Something he trusted him with. Something fragile.

"Are you to reveal all my secrets Hawke?" Fenris voice was stronger, filled with anger, but now Anders could hear the fear it was masking.

Maker, he hoped that Hawke was not misjudging everything here, because this gave him something he had never asked for. Knowledge and power over the elf. He didn't want to know. He didn't want these secrets. He didn't want to feel sympathy, but by Andraste's blighted crotch, Hawke knew him far too well at times. He was a healer. He couldn't overlook this anymore than he would walk away from an open wound.

"I trust Anders with my life," Hawke assured, the smile growing a little softer. "And with my heart."

"Well, I don't," the elf nearly hissed, reaching up to grab Anders by the throat, pulling him down. "If you ever hurt him, mage, I will tear your heart out."

Anders reached up, gently disengaging Fenris fingers so he could breathe again. The elf reluctantly allowed it to happen, never taking his eyes of the mage. Accusing eyes? Maybe. Anders didn't know, Maker knew he blamed himself enough for what he knew must be done eventually. The blow that must be struck. Somehow… this actually made things easier. "I will be counting on that," he said at last, with all the honestly he could muster.

"Good," Hawke said, obviously not sure exactly what had just passed between Fenris and Anders, but eager to move beyond it. "Now how about that sandwich?"

"Just give us both a moment here Hawke," Anders said with a faint smile, suddenly feeling as if he had stepped back from the edge of a very tall cliff. "It will keep."


End file.
